


Knots

by Kendrene



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Canon Compliant, Dom Lexa, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Smut, Strap-Ons, Sub Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: This particular bed is for Clarke a source of comfort. A refuge. Tonight, however, she will find no rest in it.She lays face down on the bed, the animal musk wafting from the pelts beneath her body heavy in her nostrils.Lexa left her kneeling there what feels like a century ago, and her joints ache from holding the position for such a long time.ORClarke let her temper get the best of her during a Council and Lexa has no choice but to teach her patience.





	Knots

**Author's Note:**

> Just pure smut because why the hell not? 
> 
> Enjoy, you sinners. 
> 
> \- Dren

This particular bed is for Clarke a source of comfort. A refuge. Tonight, however, she will find no rest in it.

She lays face down on the bed, the animal musk wafting from the pelts beneath her body heavy in her nostrils. 

Lexa left her kneeling there what feels like a century ago, and her joints ache from holding the position for such a long time. 

It doesn't help that the spreader bar Lexa fastened around her ankles prevents Clarke from at least closing her thighs or shift her weight now and then. Her hands are tied too, wrists bound together at the small of her back, the rope work so intricate it was impossible for her to follow as Lexa tied her up, so she has no hope of freeing herself without help. 

Not that she would want to. 

What Clarke does know, is that a second length of rope ties her wrists to the the spreader bar keeping her legs apart. This rope is different from the one Lexa wrapped around her wrists, softer and knotted at Intervals. 

It rubs into her flesh whenever she tosses her shoulders to keep the blood flowing, the knots digging into her skin in a way Clarke decides is quite pleasant. 

The rope continues downward, between her ass cheeks, scissoring through her folds before it connects to the spreader bar. Clarke did not realized that one of the small knots would rub right over her clit until she yanked her hands to loosen the bindings a little. 

The discovery had left her open-mouthed, her expressing turning into a jaded grin when the shock wore off. Since Lexa left her to her own devices, she would make the most of it. 

Except that, of course, the Commander had counted on the fact that she would. 

She had thought that, by flexing her wrists and tugging on the rope, she could at least make herself come. It had looked like it would work in the beginning, her clit stiffening against the knot, her thighs running with arousal. Clarke managed to work herself up to the edge twice, but release dangled just out of reach both times. 

Relaxing her shoulders, she lets out a frustrated groan, biting into the furs to stifle it. 

“Do you think you’ve learned your lesson, Ambassador?” 

Lexa’s voice catches her by surprise, and Clarke jerks her head up, struggling to throw a look over her shoulder. She manages to twist partly around before the bite of the ropes goes from pleasurable to painful, biting the inside of her cheek when the knot between her legs grinds into her clit particularly hard. 

Lexa watches her from where she is leaning against the doorway, an amused smile curving her lips. She is still wearing the same clothes in which Clarke saw her last, although the red sash indicating her rank is now thrown somewhat more messily over her shoulder, rather than being arranged in precise folds. 

The Commander is a stickler for such details, and Clarke wonders what the minor change could mean.

Hopefully that she’s earned release, if not forgiveness.

“Well?” Lexa asks, her tone clipped. She stalks across the room, fingers flexing along the hem of her sash. Clarke’s spine twitches, her muscles sore from holding herself at a weird angle, and she collapses back on the bed with a huff, but not before she’s caught a glimpse of her lover’s pale-green gaze darkening.

“Yes, Heda.” She pushes the words between the grind of her back teeth, knowing she is lying.

Lexa knows  it too.

“Oh?” The exclamation is entirely made of fake surprise. “It took barely an hour for you to master patience?” The smirk she can clearly hear in Lexa’s words, makes Clarke want to howl. 

The Commander’s fingers play across her sweat-sheened back, a fleeting caress that is gone before it has a chance to fully register. 

“Impressive.” Lexa adds without warmth. 

If asked, Clarke would have no problem admitting that it was been her temper that landed her in hot water. One moment the Azgeda Ambassador was throwing a barbed remark her way, and the next she was at his throat - verbally and physically. 

How she’d gotten into his personal space, Clarke can’t recall, that part of the meeting absent from her memory. 

“You get to kick people off the tower.” She mutters under her breath, somewhat seething at the unfairness of the situation.

Her face is so smushed into the furs, Clarke is sure Lexa won’t hear the words, but the fingers pushing the slicked knot against her core, tell her she is wrong. Lexa forces the knotted rope inside of her and, when she feels it pop past her entrance Clarke whimpers, hips bucking as heat shoots up her spine. 

“I am Heda.” Lexa’s voice is almost soft.

Almost.

“I think you have learned nothing.” Lexa continues conversationally. “I think I’ll have to teach you.” 

The finger holding the knot inside of Clarke is removed, but her walls have clamped down so hard around it, that it remains in place. It drives her mad with need, big enough to part her walls and rub against them whenever she moves, but not nearly sufficient to reach all the places she needs pressure to be. 

Lexa hand closes around a handful of her hair, pulling Clarke’s head off the furs. The Commander is standing over her now, legs brushing up to the side of the bed, and she feels diminished by her presence. 

There is no other place Clarke would rather be.

She allows her eyes to rove up the length of Lexa’s body, knowing that her lover will be able to read hunger on her face.

Lexa’s smile widens, her free hand falling to her belt buckle, and the sizeable bulge tenting the front of her pants. Clarke can only wonder how she’d failed to notice it before.

She watches, mesmerized, as Lexa undoes her pants, fishing out the strap-on. Clarke is familiar with it, and how it would feel, having been on the receiving end before. 

She must have moaned, because Lexa tilts her head back with a laugh, the hold she still has on Clarke’s hair slackening. 

The Commander guides her head back down, fingers lingering to scratch at her scalp once she is resting on the furs again. 

“Not so fast. Patience, remember?” 

Lexa moves away, the room falling quiet around them, and Clarke begins to think she’s left again. She whimpers, heart clenching so hard that she can taste it beating on her tongue, and she has to swallow a few times to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. 

“I’m here.” Warmth returns to Lexa’s tone, unannounced in the way spring does just when it looks like winter will last forever and, when her hand splays soothingly across Clarke’s perked up ass, she sags against the bed in relief. 

Her teeth bite into her lower lip until it bleeds, but Clarke doesn’t cry out, and - perhaps because she’s been one breath away from breaking down - it makes her oddly proud.

Lexa starts slow, hands working away the numbness that had settled over Clarke’s bones, making her feel as if her muscles are carved from lead. She has grown so stiff that she can barely feel Lexa’s touch in the beginning but, after some time, blood returns to its normal flowing, pins and needles spreading across Clarke’s skin as sensation comes back to her flesh. 

Under Lexa’s ministrations she grows, if possible, even wetter. The knot is still securely inside her and, whenever Lexa’s fingers stray close to the inner part of her thighs, her walls tighten around it, causing her to gasp. 

“I don’t think you realize how beautiful you look like this.” Lexa croons as she works, desire thickening her voice. “So helpless.” 

Her hands still cupping Clarke’s ass.

“You don’t like to be helpless, right Clarke?” 

She doesn’t. 

Her life, it seems, has been nothing but a series of events just out of her control. It started with her father’s death and followed up with her crash-landing. Clarke can’t help but wonder whether everything has been geared toward this exact moment. 

Maybe she is meant to get to this bed, trussed the way she is, and knowing that she can do nothing about it. 

The thought should fill her with dread, but it doesn’t. She finds she doesn’t mind being at Lexa’s mercy  because, ultimately, Lexa has her well-being in mind.

On this particular night, Lexa will  _ use _ her, but she will make sure that Clarke wants it too.

“I don’t.” She admits with as much of a shrug as her bindings permit. “Not unless it’s you I’m helpless for.” 

The bed dips under her and, even though she cannot see her, she knows that Lexa has clambered up behind her. Clarke tenses, anticipation eating at her insides. Her walls clench again, the dull ache which has settled deep within her growing to unbearable levels. She sinks her teeth into the furs again, almost gagging at the musk filling her mouth. Clarke wants to beg Lexa to fill her, to fuck her until she is reduced to little more than a shivering mess, but the more eagerness she shows, the more her lover will have her wait - just to drive her point home. 

Lexa’s hands start to move again, painting lines up and down her back, fingers following the contours of her shoulder blades and ribs until Clarke’s frame is wracked with shivers. 

“You know, Clarke, people surrender to me all the time. They either kneel by choice as I sit in the throne room, or I  _ make  _ them fall to their knees in the mud of a battlefield.” 

The words are whispered in hot puffs against her spine, Lexa bent down over her as she follows the trajectory her fingers take on Clarke’s skin with soft presses of her mouth. 

Despite fighting to resist the urge, she arches up, and seeks to close the distance between Lexa’s body and her own. Her shoulders crack, flashes of red, hot pain blinding her momentarily, then Lexa’s hands are pushing her down, holding her in place until she stops struggling.

“No.” Lexa takes her hands away, and a moment later her fingers are parting Clarke’s folds wider, working the knot out of her core. “Let me.” The rope is unraveled, and Lexa removes it, making sure that every inch of it rubs across Clarke’s slit and her smaller entrance as she does. 

The whimper that has been about to fall from her lips becomes a sob of relief, and Clarke cries, tears soaking the furs. Sobs rip from her chest, and she doesn’t try to hide her complete dismantling, accepting Lexa’s continued crooning like balm spread over an open wound. 

“People surrendering to me don’t really want to show how vulnerable they are.” Lexa’s lips move against her earlobe, and Clarke turns her face to nuzzle against her cheek. “But you…” Lexa sighs and places a careful kiss at the corner of Clarke’s mouth. “You are not afraid to let me  _ see _ .” 

“That makes you so very strong, Clarke.” Lexa pulls back, and grabs her by her hips, the head of the strap on gliding across her slit. “And stubborn.” She adds with a chuckle.

“Lexa,  _ please _ .” The plea comes out her mouth unbidden, and Clarke grinds back into the firmness of the strap on. It’s made of the smoothest stone she’s ever seen, and in the beginning it’s cold enough that the skin of her ass and back pebbles with goosebumps. 

Lexa doesn’t stop her, but neither does she help, holding still as Clarke rubs herself on it. her whimpers coming almost without pause.

She couldn’t keep them inside if she wanted to, not even to draw breath. Her need is made of a fire so hot it burns the oxygen as soon as it hits her lungs, and white stars are born behind her eyelids. 

With the spreader bar still in place and her hands still tied, Clarke can’t scoot back. She can’t press back until the strap on sinks inside her, only drip on it, the stone’s touch against her folds just enough to make her more aroused.

Lexa is the only one who can sate her but, judging from what she’s done so far, she has no intention to. Unless…

Unless Clarke shows her how patient she can be. 

Halting the erratic jerks of her hips is the hardest thing she’s ever done, but Clarke manages to bring herself under control. She wills herself to lay still, going as far as to hold her breath. She is sure that, if she exhaled, she would give in to her urges again. 

After what seems like an eternity, Lexa’s fingers dig into her sides and pull her back with enough force to make her cry out in surprise. The blunt head of the strap on finally -  _ finally _ \- drives the tight muscles of her entrance to widen around its girth. 

“Very good, Clarke.” 

She almost blacks out, but she doesn’t miss the breathless quality of Lexa’s voice. A slight quiver underlines each word, and Clarke realizes that her lover is as turned on as she. Lexa keeps pushing forward, the strap on inching deeper. It’s wide enough that pain momentarily engulfs the base of Clarke’s spine at the stretch, pain causing her to dig her fingernails in what she can reach of the palm of her hands, but when it hits a certain spot within her, bliss drowns every other though. 

“ _ Lexa _ !” 

Her lover has bottomed out inside her, hips smacking into Clarke’s upturned ass once before Lexa stills, letting her adjust. Spasm ripple across her core, and she thinks she’s never felt so full. 

It’s the first time that Lexa’s taken her in this particular position and, when she starts to move, hips pulling back slowly before she rams forward again, the head of the strap on brushes against Clarke’s cervix, making her thighs shake. 

It happens again with each following stroke, and Clarke’s moans grow in intensity. Lexa is practically draped over her now, one hand still around one of her hips, the other hooked onto the rope binding her wrists. 

Lexa is  _ riding _ her, and Clarke loves every minute of it. 

It doesn’t take her long to reach the edge, perhaps because she tried while she was alone, but this time she tumbles over it with a scream full of triumph, Lexa’s whispered encouragements filling her ears. 

Her orgasm is a tidal wave that threatens to wash her away, the only thing anchoring her Lexa’s hands, tender, as they help her through the aftershocks. 

Clarke wishes she could collapse into the furs, her body heavy now that the tension she accumulated has abruptly been released,   

She is barely aware of Lexa pulling out, but when her lover frees her from her restrains, easing her down onto the bed, her joints crack, jolting her out of her dazed state. 

“Don’t move.” Lexa’s eyes meet hers, her face concerned. “I’ll help you work the stiffness off.” 

Clarke has barely enough strength left to nod. She lays sprawled where Lexa left her, watching through half-lidded eyes as the Commander gets rid of the strap on and her clothes. 

Lexa climbs back on the bed and straddles her, completely naked. As always, when faced with such wild beauty, Clarke feels at a loss. She’s tried to transfer it to paper plenty of times, she owns sketchbook after sketchbook full of drawings portraying Lexa, but - no matter how hard she tries - there’s always something missing from the Lexas that she traces with her charcoal. 

She sighs, enjoying the way Lexa’s fingers dig into her shoulders and upper arms, loosening her muscles. Drifting, weightless, she slips into a light sleep, only opening her eyes when Lexa lays next to her, draping a fur over them both. 

“Do you understand why I took you the way I did?” Lexa pushes up on her elbow, tracing the edge of her jaw before bending down to kiss her softly.

“Because I  _ can’t _ kick Ambassadors off towers, even when I really,  _ really _ want to?” 

Lexa snorts, eyes dancing with amusement.

“I can’t always protect you, Clarke. Although it is tempting to never let you out of my sight, we both know that isn’t possible.” 

Amusement drains from Lexa’s face as she talks, and when she is done, she looks at Clarke expectantly. 

“There’s always the chance of a knife in the dark.” Clarke nods her understanding. “And I need to watch my mouth before I make more enemies than Skaikru already has.” 

Lexa relaxes against her, clearly relieved, and Clarke feels around with her hand until she finds hers to hold. 

“Lexa, I didn’t mean-” 

“Hush.” Lexa presses two fingers over her lips, halting her mid-sentence. “It’s done with and we won’t discuss it further.” 

Clarke uses the hold she has on Lexa’s hand to pull her arm across her middle, and her lover willingly gathers her into her arms in response. 

She is starting to doze off again when Lexa speaks, breaking the silence. 

“The knotted rope, I made it when I thought I had lost you.” Clarke’s eyes fly open at that, and she almost bolts up to a sitting position, but Lexa isn’t looking her way as she talks. They seldom speak of the time she spent in the wilderness, the memory too full of pain to be touched upon safely. The anger that she used to feel has waned with time, substituted by regret, and to some extent self-loathing Clarke never speaks about. If she had not left Arkadia, some things would have played out differently.

Perhaps.

The light coming from the fire paints what Clarke can see of Lexa’s face in orange-tinted shadows, and she finds herself wishing that the Commander would face her, to be able to read what exactly is going through her mind. 

“Every knot was meant to symbolize all the reasons why it was better that way.” Lexa falters and Clarke hears her swallow. “You and me being apart, I mean.” Clarke turns in her embrace, and throws her arms around her, pressing her face into the crook of Lexa’s neck. 

She doesn’t care that it looks desperate and clingy. 

“I thought that when I was done with it, I could cut the knots, and be done with you.  _ With us _ .” 

Each word hurts, but Clarke forces herself to keep listening because Lexa needs her to. 

“And now?” She asks, when it looks like Lexa won’t add anything. “Do you feel the same way now?” Her heart thumps so hard against her ribs, she fears that they may break apart. 

“No.” Lexa meets her eyes, and the green is so full of love it makes Clarke’s vision blur with tears of joy. “You got my soul in knots around yours, Clarke, and I’d have it no other way.” 

They share a smile and, feeling reassured, Clarke settles into the furs.  Their bodies may drift apart as they sleep and she is unwilling to let Lexa go yet. 

“Don’t worry.” The Commander adds after a jaw-splitting yawn. “If this new Ambassador doesn’t learn some manners, I’ll kick him off the balcony for you.”

Clarke is almost completely sure that Lexa is joking, but a grin lingers on her lips long after she’s fallen asleep.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [follow me on TUMBLR for more stories and exclusive content](https://kendrene.tumblr.com/)


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